Read on, it's good for the brain.

Month: September 2017

Western Massachusetts is a chillingly beautiful region where creativity comes from blood. -M. Taggart.

June 01, 2011 Tornado, Springfield, MA was home to a devastating tornado. I remember watching this image live. I’m sure many remember the same. Photo credit Brewbeer22.

This church, located in Gill MA, has been the structure for nightmares for many youthful adventurers. Including myself.Turners Falls Indians. As a teenager I was called a river rat. I told them proudly, ‘No. I am a Turners Falls Indian.’

Sunderland, MA. Autumn is here. Visit Route 47 and enjoy. You’ll find great views, restaurants, and a number of small farms offering apple cider and maple sugar. After graduating from the School of Management at UMass Amherst I enjoyed living in this town for a number of years. Photo credit John Burk.A tornado can’t last in the mountains. They can. They will. This is the same June 1st, 2011 tornado that started in Springfield, MA. The tornado was on the ground for over 30 miles. Photo credit wellfleetosprey.com

Turners Falls, MA. I feel admiration for the structure that was. And for the town. It’s simple when we let it be. I can’t get enough of these old mill pictures. Photo credit WWLP.

Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this, you might enjoy my short story. Cheers.

We walk into the shadow of death to pull one wounded child from its depths, to find another daft man standing in the corner. Leaves are shuffling outside my window. A man with a golden heart is gone. Another stands in a room looking. Don’t block me. I am here and at least I have my fingers. The man in the room standing, looking daft, asks for silence because silences never questions. Never says a damn word. The girl with the golden brow would have cared for a word. And the boy with the covers pulled tight would have cared for the same.
**
copyright 2017
-M. Taggart

watch the day grow with its green grass begging attention-
the ground, having swallowed some, urges for more
the New England birds are listening- waiting for approval
all the while one sits, alone, listening back
with a simple understanding-

now finally feeling the first
breeze of autumn air flirting with his skin
that brings him a sensation brimming with tears- he thinks out loud
‘Go ahead. Tell life it can’t.’